


Love is the Bread of Life

by withlovegilbert (rebelarkey)



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Grief, Humor, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Season/Series 02, Season 2, Season 3, Season 3 Spoilers, Teasing, The Missing Year, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vignettes, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelarkey/pseuds/withlovegilbert
Summary: Anne tries to figure out her relationship with Gilbert. They're notfriendsper se like the rest of her Kindred Spirits. They'redifferent.~Five times Anne and Gilbert bond over food.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 30
Kudos: 191





	Love is the Bread of Life

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to share this with you! I have been sitting on this idea for this fic for two months! And I finally got it written and ohhh it's a monster! The largest and the biggest thanks to @aceofsparrows here on ao3 for her stupendous betaing skills, I'd be lost without her.  
> A few notes before you get started: it's rated T for period-typical racism and for child birth. so if that bothers you'd I don't recommend reading.  
> The following are a few of my headcanons for that missing year between Season 2 and Season 3.  
> The working title for this fic for the longest time was "Cooking with Mary" so that tells you what it's about.  
> Oh before I forget, shoutout to jacksparrow589 (tumblr:@js589). That scene and that _word_ are all for you my love.  
> Enjoy!

**PART I - _SPRING_**

“Happy Easter!” Anne gave her bosom friend a hug, sitting down beside her in class. 

“To you too!” Diana returned. 

Anne brandished a posy of wildflowers, giggling. “For your table, Madame.” 

“Oh Anne,” Diana breathed. “The trilliums are blooming! I do wish I could go with you to pick more of them, but Mother wants me to come home right after school. We’re going to Carmody tonight to spend it with my cousins.”

Anne’s countenance fell. “You mean, you’re not coming to Easter dinner?”

Diana glanced around and lowered her voice. “No. And you should’ve heard the things Father said. It made me so angry I had to go to my room to scream into my pillow.” 

“They won’t allow you to come?”

“No.” Diana sounded so dejected. 

“I want this Easter to be perfect for Mary. She’s made Sebastian so happy! I just wish you could make it.”

Diana squeezed Anne’s hand. “Perhaps next year things will be different.” 

Miss Stacy called the class to attention and their conversation ended.

-

Easter morning dawned bright and clear, with the crow of a rooster and the lowing of milk cows. The Snow Queen finally sprang forth her blossoms, showering Anne’s gable room full of starry white petals.

“Happy Easter to you, dear Snow Queen!” Anne called out her window, finishing tying her braids. 

Down below she noticed a horse trotting up the drive. It was Gilbert Blythe. Anne took a quiet moment to really assess her rival. He was really quite handsome, having left boyhood behind, and looked all manly at the moment astride his horse.

Gilbert dismounted, and, noticing Anne in her window, waved. Ashamed at being caught, Anne drew back and slammed her window closed. 

As she made her way down the stairs she could hear Gilbert’s voice. 

“I’m here to retrieve whatever foodstuffs you are providing for Easter dinner.” 

Marilla answered him back. “The shepherd’s pie isn’t quite done, so we’ll bring it along when we come over later. Anne,” Marilla said, spotting the latter as she entered the kitchen. “Will you fetch that pie I made last night? And a few of those fruit preserves, please.” 

Anne did as she was bid, and quick as naught, had an old sturdy basket filled with food looped over Gilbert’s arm. 

“We’ll be over there after church. Now get, get, or you’ll be late!” Marilla shooed Gilbert out the door goodnaturedly. “Are you ready for church, Anne?” 

Anne twirled, showing off the new dress Marilla had made her. It was green-- a dark green like an evergreen tree-- with accents of gingham at the wrist, hem, and yoke. “I love it, Marilla.”

“I’m glad.” Marilla sighed, glancing out the window. “There’s Matthew with the buggy now. Let me pull the shepherd’s pie out of the oven and we’ll be off.” Marilla set the dish on the warm stove, covering it with a cloth. “There, that will keep it warm until we return.”

“Is it alright if I go over early to help Mary?” Anne asked. 

“After church, mind you. Now grab your coat and let’s be off.” 

-

Anne walked with Gilbert to his home. “Lovely service. I’m sad that Bash and Mary couldn’t make it.” 

Gilbert glanced aside at her. “You know that it’s just an excuse, right?”

Anne raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “I remember that first Sunday. I thought the minister would die from apoplexy there on the spot! I think it so shameful that some folks discriminate. And especially a minister who preaches we’re all equal in God’s eyes! Being banned from the church just because the color of their skin... Oh and don’t get me _started_ on Diana’s parents.”

“They sent a note declining Mary’s invitation.” Gilbert added, glowering and shaking his head. “Within all the flourishing and fancy language, it wasn’t hard to detect the real reason. We all know they won’t come because Bash and Mary are black. It’s disgusting.” 

Together they trudged through the mud in the path. A silence fell on the pair, but while in the past it would have made Anne uncomfortable, right now she felt at ease. Was their rivalry truly at an end? Could they perhaps, be friends? 

Somehow, that word wasn’t adequate enough to describe her relationship with Gilbert. Her and Diana were _friends_ , and her and Ruby were _friends_ as well in a similar way. Same with Cole and Aunt Jo. Kindred Spirits and friends all rolled into one.

She and Gilbert were friends _not_ in that way. They were different but she couldn’t put her finger at _how..._

Anne, frustrated at how the right word eluded her, wasn’t watching where her footsteps were landing, and she stumbled over a hidden branch. 

“Careful,” admonished Gilbert with a little laugh, catching her elbow to steady her. 

“Thanks.” He let go and, strangely, Anne mourned the loss of his touch. 

Soon, they made it to the Blythe-Lacroix house, which was already a-bustle with activity. Mary met them at the door. 

“Gilbert Blythe! You will stay outside. I want no bad luck of yours to interfere with my cooking, you hear me? You take one step inside this kitchen and your curse will rain down and ruin all my hard work. You can clean yourself up in the barn and enter in through the other door.” 

“Aye aye ma’am.” Gilbert gave a goofy salute and headed off round the back. 

Anne smiled at Mary. “Would you like some help?”

“I believe I’m all about finished, but thank you for your offer. Maybe you could set the table? There’s Marilla and Matthew now. Oh! And the Lyndes right behind them.”

Soon they were all gathered together, and Sebastian said Grace. 

Mary cleared her throat. “Thank you all for coming. You’ve made my heart good. It’s so nice to cook for a large gathering again.”

“Thank you for having us, Mary.” Marilla smiled over her glass. 

“What did you put in your chicken Mary? It is absolutely scrumptious and divine.” Anne sighed, in raptures over the blend of spices on her tongue. 

“Let’s see, paprika, cumin, tarragon, pepper, and a hint of lemon. I’m glad you like it.” 

“Like it? It’s the best chicken I’ve ever tasted!” Anne caught sight of Marilla and hastily amended her statement. “After Marilla’s, of course.”

“Yes, Marilla’s fried chicken is always wonderful,” Rachel Lynde chimed in. “But your chicken, Mary, well, has an… unusual taste, that’s for sure.” 

Anne glared at Mrs. Lynde, annoyed. 

While the adults changed the subject and chattered about someone’s new cow or other, Gilbert nudged her arm. “Here, you can have more of mine.” He said quietly, gesturing to his plate. 

Anne turned the glare on him. “Why? Do you not like it either?” She snarled. 

Gilbert raised his hands to ward off her ire. “Relax, Anne. I enjoy Mary’s cooking just swell. But since I’m full and still have some left, perhaps you’d like to finish it, since you seem to like it so much.”

Anne felt chagrined, as though he’d just chastised her. “Sorry. Yes, thank you.” 

Gilbert slid what was left of his piece of chicken onto her plate. 

Anne quickly bit into it, half moaning at the taste. Finished too fast for her liking, another piece found it’s way into her mouth. This time, she caught Matthew’s eye over the table. He warily shook his head, reaching up and flipping his nose with his index finger, sublty pointing in Mrs. Lynde’s direction

Anne, confused, looked over at the woman.

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Lynde gasped, her hand clasped to her chest, her eyes large with scandal. “I cannot believe such a thing.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Anne. She swallowed quickly, utterly baffled. 

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert! I thought you knew better than that!” Marilla admonished, adding her two bits.

“What? It’s just chicken.”

“Yes, but to eat after Gilbert has already partaken of it is such a shameful thing. And you, young man,” She added, turning to Anne’s companion. “You ought to know better as well.”

Anne rose to his defense in indignation. “He offered because I enjoyed Mary’s chicken so much, nothing more. And besides, Matthew shares his food with me all the time. How is this any different?”

“Matthew is your guardian dearest, that’s understandable.” Mrs. Lynde coaxed.”But to share food with a man you’re not related to…” She shuddered, shaking her head.”How utterly shameful.” 

Anne narrowed her eyes defiantly and, holding Mrs. Lynde’s gaze, took another bite of chicken. 

The entire table erupted. 

Mrs. Lynde and Marilla started shouting, Anne glaring while she finished her bite, then stood, hurling words back as good as she got. 

Meanwhile, Matthew and Mr. Lynde exchanged looks before escaping out the door, and Mary hurriedly started cleaning up plates. Gilbert, seeing this, seized his chance to escape as well and jumped up to help Mary. Sebastian was frozen in place, his head whipping back and forth between the two opponents as though following a game of shuttlecock. 

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal--”

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert you will not talk to your elders this way--”

“Teenagers! Didn’t I warn you Marilla that she would be nothing but trouble, her and her red hair--”

“Why are we bringing my hair into this? It’s not like I can change it! Oh wait, I already tried that!--”

“I am not discussing this further. You have behaved rather shamelessly and now--”

“If you had just listened to me, Marilla she would’ve been brought up right but no, you listened to Matthew and now look what’s happened--”

“Nothing happened! I do this all the time! I don’t see what’s shameful about it at all--”

“We’re leaving right this instance--”

“I won’t stand for it--”

“Argh! Enough, fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Mrs. Lynde left in a huff the door slamming shut behind her.

Marilla, cross with Anne, grabbed the girl by her shoulders and planned to march the girl straight to the buggy for an uncomfortable ride home. 

Just before crossing the threshold, Anne turned back to Mary. 

“I’m ever so sorry I ruined your dinner. It really was lovely.” 

Mary shook her head, smiling. “Anne, it was in no way ruined. In fact, there was always a tussle or an argument anytime I held dinner at the Bog. Felt like home.” 

Anne smiled and allowed Marilla to steer her outside. 

As they descended the steps, they could hear Bash raise his voice. “You know better than to feed a woman off your plate. What were you thinking!?”

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to do something nice for her! I…” The rest of Gilbert's response was muffled and lost to the ears. 

Anne smiled a little. At least she wasn’t the only one getting a scolding tonight, that’s for sure. 

* * *

**PART II- _SUMMER_ **

“Oh I’m so excited! Your cake is definitely going to win the grand prize Mary, I just know it!” Anne gushed, escorting her friend around the fair stalls. 

“Oh, Anne, hush! If I win it that would be mighty grand but there are others that are deserving too.” 

“Will you teach me to bake? I mean, Marilla has started to, but since I’m not allowed to touch the oven less I burn a pie again, having a mentor would do wonders for my baking skills.” 

Anne glared at a man who shook his head disgustingly at Mary, going out of his way to make a wide berth from the two women. 

“Of course! It would do me good to have some company while the boys are outside having all the fun. And maybe you could finally show up Gilbert in something; his cooking skills are horrendous. The first day he cooked, I could hardly swallow it down, the consistency was so… off.”

Anne laughed, the peals blending in with the noise of the fair, of the joy and merriment of the county folk, the hawkers, and the ringing of bells. 

Mary continued, encouraged by Anne’s laughter. “The first day I met Sebastian he begged me for some breakfast. Turns out he needed real cooking since Gilbert’s was so bad.”

“What was that?” Gilbert had come up behind them. He was grinning. “I heard someone mention me?”

The two women started laughing again. “Just your cooking.” Mary told him, patting his arm. Sebastian made an appearance then holding two ice cream cones. He handed one to his wife and then stole her arm from Anne, tucking it in the crook of his. 

Anne turned to Gilbert who presented her with a cone of her own. “For the lady,” he said gallantly with a mock bow. Anne inclined her head with exaggerated solemnity. “I thank you, good and faithful knight. I will graciously accept your token of fealty.” 

They both missed the newlywed’s knowing looks and shared humor.

Anne dug into her cone, the vanilla sweetness exploding on her tongue. Since coming to Green Gables sweets and well cooked food had become a staple, but ice cream was still a rare delicacy. 

Gilbert offered her his arm but Anne didn’t see it, intent on her tasty treat. She missed the flash of disappointment that crossed Gilbert’s face. They trailed after the Lacroix’s, matching step for step. 

“Come win a prize for your lady, young man!” A man tending a shooting game called to Gilbert. Anne went a little red and glanced at Gilbert. He shrugged it off, giving the man a shake of his head. 

“Maybe another time,” the man grumbled, eyeing the two teenagers for a moment before he moved on to the people behind them. 

“Two o’clock! Pastry judging to commence at two o’clock!” A herald called as they passed, his bright red and white striped uniform making him easy to see. Anne turned to Gilbert. 

“Let’s go see how Mary’s cake did! And I bet Marilla will take first prize again for the seventh year in a row for her plum puffs. Sometimes I ought to get her to experiment, try something new. I fear she’s a one trick pony, only able to deliver perfection with one type of pastry.”

“Perhaps she’s waiting for the day for someone to rise to the occasion and give her some competition.” Gilbert remarked. 

Anne nodded. “I supposed so Just like Matthew and his nemesis Jack.” 

“Nemesis?” Gilbert asked, amused. 

“Of course. Archenemy or rival would be a decent epitaph but I prefer _nemesis_.”

Gilbert crossed his arms, entertained by Anne’s passionate decree. “Does that mean you regard us as nemesis?”

Anne frowned, caught a little in Gilbert’s query. “No. Not really. ‘Bedfellows’ is a much better term for us.”

Gilbert raised his eyebrows at the word, his mind flashing unbidden to Anne, in his bed, her hair unbound, a sheet the only thing maintaining her modesty, her cool grey eyes beckoning to him to join her. 

He shook himself hastily from the thought, his starched collar suddenly hot. “Not... friends?” The word seemingly inadequate due to the direction of his thoughts. 

But Anne didn’t seem to have heard him, as she was still pondering her word choice. “No, that doesn’t sound right either... When I figure out what we are, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

They entered the judging tent, coming up behind Sebastian and Mary. 

“Look! They’re judging her cake right now!” Anne grabbed Gilbert’s arm in excitement, squeezing it in her enthusiasm.

“Beautiful presentation.” They could hear one judge say over the crowd. 

“Excellent technique with the frosting.”

”Oh! And the flavor. Rich, yet frothy.”

”The sponge isn’t too dense, but doesn’t feel like you’re eating air. “

”A ten for sure.” 

The judges moved on to the next cake.

“Did you hear that? A ten! Mary’s cake got a ten!” In her eagerness, Anne didn’t notice that she was essentially hitting Gilbert’s arm with every exclaimed point. He just grinned at her. 

“I think you’re more excited _for_ Mary than Mary actually _is._ ” Observed Gilbert playfully. Anne smacked his arm in earnest, then realized she’d been hanging on his arm and dropped it as though it was fire hot. 

“Well, someone needs to be. She has a real chance of winning!” Anne moved forward to address Mary. “Aren’t you just thrilled?” 

Mary had a curious look on her face. “We’ll see,” she murmured. Puzzled that Mary didn’t seem to be as euphoric as she was, Anne turned away and spotted Marilla. 

She skipped over to her guardian. “And how did your plum puffs do?” She asked, already knowing the answer from the proud look on Marilla’s face.

“First place prize as usual. The judges asked for my recipe, but of course I refused them. Imagine that. Me giving away my family’s recipe to strangers. No, they shall not have it.” 

Anne laughed, her soul basking in the sunshine-y day, and the gaiety of the gathering. This being her second county fair, while less shiny-new as the first, the fair still held wonders for her to explore. 

“And how did Matthew’s carrot place? It was the size of my forearm!” 

Marilla’s mouth twisted a little, reflecting some disappointment. “Why don’t you go have a look see.” 

Just as Anne was about to make her way over to the vegetables, the judges announced they had their winners for the cake competition. Deciding to wait to see Matthew’s carrot until after, Anne rushed back to the Lacroix-Blythe family. 

“In third place, for her scrumptious chocolate cake, we have Miss Lavendar Lewis!” The crowd applauded. “Please make your way up to the table to collect your prize.” 

Anne grasped Mary’s hand, squeezing hard in anticipation. 

“Second place we have Mrs Janet Douglas for her Carrot cake!”

More applause. 

“First place goes to… number 6! Mary Lacroix.” 

“Yes!” Anne exclaimed, clapping. As she turned to Gilbert, who’s smile was as big as Anne’s grin, she heard the applause abruptly cut out, leaving the two of them clapping loud in the tent. 

Mary made her way forward in the silence. At the table, Anne could see the prize manager and Mary talking. After a few minutes, Mary nodded, then retreated, empty handed. 

As she reached Sebastian, the announcer cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. The first place prize goes to number 15, Winthrop Irving! Please come and claim your prize.” 

Anne’s smile fell, and a chill ran down her spine. “But… you won Mary.”Anne asked in a stupor. “You got a ten out of ten and Winthrop Irving only got a nine out of ten.” Bash and Mary exchanged glances. 

“It doesn’t matter Anne. They made a mistake is all.”

Anne raised her eyebrows, the stupor clearing, a fire starting in her gut. “A mistake? They’ve made a mistake alright.” 

Anne marched right up to the table and slapped her hand down in front of the attendant, cutting off Mrs Irving. “You and I both know that Mary won.”

The man gave her a look, then turned back to Mrs Irving, dismissing her altogether. 

“Here’s your ribbon--”

“Excuse me, but this is wrong. She didn’t win.” 

The man turned to Anne. “Look little girl. There was a mistake. We called the wrong name. Now run off and find some dolls.” 

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

“Anne, please--” Mrs. Irving tried to interrupt. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Irving, but Mary Lacroix won the first place prize fair and square. She earned a ten while your vanilla cake was a bit too heavy on the icing which placed it at a nine. If this man would do his job and stop being a bigoted, old, lazy man, then things might at least be fair. I--”

“Anne.” It was Mary. She took Anne by the arm and led her away from the table. 

“This isn’t over.” She promised the man. He looked down his nose at her, before turning back to Mrs. Irving with a sleek smile. 

“But Mary! You won. It’s wrong that they’re giving your prize to someone else.” 

“I know.” 

“They need to fix it!”

Mary had led her around to the back of the tent, away from the hustle and bustle. In the distance she could hear the auctioneer’s cry. 

“Bless you child.” Mary touched Anne’s cheek. “If only everyone had your integrity and spirit. But it’s alright.”

“No it’s not! It’s not ‘alright’ that they treat you like that, just because your skin’s a different color. Your cake won fair and square.”

“And we both know that. But we can’t go changing folks mind in an instant. We’ll win them over eventually.”

Anne sighed, defeated. “One of these days, I will have the power to change everyone’s mind. As a teacher, I will teach my students that different isn’t bad, it’s just not the same.”

Mary hugged her then. “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, I am glad you’re my friend. You’ll make a difference one day, just you wait.” 

Anne nodded. “Next year, I will enter your cake in the competition, and then we’ll see who wins.” 

Gilbert came up then, carrying a small stuffed animal. 

“For you,” he said, attempting to hand it to Anne. 

She just stared at it blankly. 

Gilbert’s hand went to rub the back of his head. “I just know how disappointed you were so I, uh,went back to that shooting game and got you a prize.” 

Finally, Anne took the small bear, cradling it to her chest. 

“Thank you, Gilbert. That’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me. I shall cherish him forever. His name shall be King Arthur and he shall rule the porch gable. He and the dear Snow Queen shall be great friends, exchanging gifts and honoring each other as fellow rulers.” 

Anne marched off, waxing poetic about how the two monarchs would attempt to outdo each other in competition. 

Gilbert turned to his sister. “I’m sorry. I wish people were different.” 

Mary shook her head. “Between the two of you,” with a nod in Anne’s direction, “the world will be changed for the better, I just know it. And I will be glad to say I have known you both.” 

* * *

**PART III - _AUTUMN_**

“May I take the basket out this time?” Anne asked Mary. Her friend nodded, tucking in a small treat before covering with the fabric. 

“Any _particular_ reason?” Mary probed, a playful smile on her lips. 

Anne shook her head. “None that I will admit to,” she replied cheekily. 

“Oh, get!” Mary laughed, playfully swatting Anne with a towel. Shortly, however,er laugh turned to a groan, and she bent over her rounded stomach. 

“Is everything alright?” Anne stepped closer, mirth gone in a flash, a hand on the other woman’s arm. 

Mary waved her off. “Nothing a good rest won’t fix. Now go, before Bash decides to see what’s taking his supper so long and he comes and starts his worry. I’ve had enough of it, and I don’t need yours either. I’ve done this before; I'm fine.”

Anne nodded and grabbed the basket, taking one last long look at her friend before heading out. 

The autumn air was crisp and cold, the brisk wind taking a nip across her cheek. Harvest season had so many delights, with the bright colors the trees turned, the calling of crows, and the ripeness of fruit. This was the season where she tended to not feel as alone, as the trees themselves turned to the exact shade of her hair. 

Gilbert and Bash had made their way to the north end of the orchard, since those apples had been a little later maturing, and so Anne followed in their footsteps. Apple leaves had started to fall, covering the ground in a quilt of softness. Kicking her feet caused the leaves to shuffle and fly around her. 

“I love October!” Anne cried to the sky, twirling about. The echo came back to her, resounding until it settled in silence. In it, in the far far distance, came the crash of waves against the shore. Even closer, the merry singing of a laborer. 

_‘Away oh! Haul away, we’ll all haul away together_ _  
_ _Away haul away, we’ll haul away Joe_ _  
_ _Away oh! Haul away, we’ll all haul away together_ _  
_ _Away haul away, we’ll haul away Joe’_  
  


Anne came down on the two men high in the trees. Sebastian noticed her first, and clambered down. 

“Save me, Queen Anne,” he pleaded dramatically in his thick accent, loud enough to be heard over Gilbert’s singing, “This moke can’t carry a tune worth a wit. He’ll drive me crazy before harvest is done.”

Anne laughed, looking up at Gilbert as he finished his shanty. 

“Finally. Peace and quiet.” Bash sighed, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. 

Gilbert, catching Anne’s gaze, winked and inhaled loudly. 

“No!” Bash complained, raising his voice when Gilbert started singing again. “Not again! It’s always the same blasted song, over and over again! _Enough_ , Blythe!”

_‘"When I was a little lad, my mother often told me’"_

Anne, knowing she was courting trouble, grinned and joined in on the call back. 

"‘ _Way, haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.’"_

“Not you too!” Came the expected protest. 

Gilbert climbed down from his perch, still singing as he approached Anne. 

_"‘And if I could not kiss a girl, my lips would all grow moldy’ "_ He sang alone, for Anne had suddenly lost her voice in that moment, his dark eyes pulling her in. His gaze flickered down to her lips, but maybe that was just her vivid imagination. 

Anne, returning herself forcefully to reality, was a little late on the refrain. "‘ _Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe’ "_ They sang together, twin grins spreading across their faces. Anne noticed how much mirth was in Gilbert’s eyes, making them shine. 

“Thank you,” he said as they finished, taking the basket from her. 

“For…?”

“Helping me tease Sebastian, of course.” That elicited more griping from the other man, to which Gilbert paid no heed. 

Gilbert sat underneath one of the cleared trees, next to Bash. “Come, join us,” he invited, beckoning to Anne. “I’ll share.”

Anne settled next to him, tucking her skirt around her ankles as she crossed her legs. He broke his sandwich in half, offering some to her. 

“Didn’t we learn our lesson last time?” Anne remarked, raising an eyebrow at his outstretched hand. 

Gilbert shrugged. “Bash is the only one here to complain.” 

Anne declined his sandwich, instead helping herself to a fresh-picked apple. 

“Ahh... blessed silence at last.” Bash leaned back on his elbows, wiping his forehead again with his handkerchief. “You know Anne, this fellow can’t sing worth a damn. And it was _this_ song that did it.”

“Did what?” Gilbert asked, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. 

“I knew him as a pasty skinny fellow who worked hard, yes. But it wasn’t until he started singing that song, that ‘Joe’ song, that it drove me crazy enough to ask him to stop. And that’s how we became friends, then brothers.” 

“That’s sweet.” Anne said around her apple. 

“He got me thrown in the latrine several times over that song.”

“Foreman was easy to tease, and most of the time I got thrown in there with you.” Gilbert pointed out. He wrinkled his nose at the sour memory. “Oh God, that was awful.”

“If it was so awful, Blythe, then why did you keep singing?” Bash asked. 

“It was October.” Gilbert replied simply, shrugging and going back to his sandwich. Bash looked questioningly at him, but Anne heard something in Gilbert’s reply that harkened back to a cold winter’s day almost two years ago. 

“You missed your father.” Anne realized softly. Gilbert looked at her, a small smile in gratitude. An acknowledgment of shared pain passed between the two silently for a moment before Bash cleared his throat. 

“Please, explain. My head is slow and I don’t seem to be getting it.” 

Gilbert inhaled slowly through his nose as if bracing himself. “I’ve lived on this farm for most of my life. It’s always harvest time in October, and on my birthday, my father and I always sang ‘Haul Away Joe’, just over and over and over. Apparently, on my fifth birthday, I kept asking for him to sing that song so often that it became a tradition.” Gilbert paused, a curious expression on his face. Too quickly it passed and he cleared his throat. 

“Last year was my first birthday without him. And so I… um, sang that song all through October because it reminded me of him.” 

Anne watched as a stray tear slipped down Gilbert’s cheek. She reached over and grasped his shoulder, giving him as much comfort as she could through that simple act. 

Deciding that they all needed a change of subject, for Gilbert’s sake, Anne perked up. 

“Speaking of,” Anne reached into her pinafore pocket pulling out a wrapped present. “Happy Birthday, Gilbert!” 

Gilbert quickly wiped the tear on his face and smiled, reaching for the gift. “Thank you, Anne.” 

Bash started. “ _Today_ is your birthday?! Blythe! How come you not tell me this?” 

Gilbert shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important!? A man’s eighteenth birthday is a very important day! Does Mary know about this?” He addressed that last part to Anne. She just gave him a knowing look, with a subtle raising of her finger to his lips to keep mum. 

“My wife knew about it before I did! October 17th... I will remember this for next year.” Bash shook his finger at Gilbert.

“I’ll be off at Queens or University then,” he reminded Bash. 

“Then I will send you letters. Or a telegram. Birthdays are to be celebrated, not just ignored as they pass by.” Bash stood up in a huff, making his way out of the orchard. 

Gilbert watched him go, frowning. “I wonder what’s eating at him. He seems a tad too passionate for this to be just about my birthday.” 

Anne hummed, pondering. “Those who tend to be the most passionate about something tend to lack it the most. Perhaps he never had anyone to fuss over his own birthday that he feels he should fuss over yours.” 

Gilbert’s mouth twisted. “I never thought of it like that.” 

He turned his attention to the gift still unopened in his hand. 

“You can open it if you like,” Anne said, staring at the dirt and kicking a few fallen leaves. She felt shy and nervous, hoping that he would like her gift. 

“The Montreal Medical Journal! Wow! Thank you.”

“It's a few months old.” Anne muttered, trying to play it off. 

“Still. I haven’t seen this edition yet!” He started flipping through it, enraptured by it’s pages. 

Anne thought it best to leave him to it, heading back to the house. She’d only taken a few steps before he called her back. 

“I just wanted to say…” he trailed off, looking unsure. “I know that.. I mean, I want to.. Thank you for remembering and… my father…” 

Anne took pity on him. “I know I only met him that one time, but he seemed really very lovely, Gilbert. He was the first person to ever say anything nice about my hair, and, well, you must have loved him a lot.” 

“I did.”

“Then don’t mind Bash. Keep singing, and as loud as you can. Because I can tell you this, coming from someone with no recollection of their parents, memories are the most precious thing. Hold onto them as tight as you can.” 

Gilbert grasped Anne’s hand, then pulled her into a hug. “I will,” he whispered in her ear. Anne leaned into his warmth, his strength surrounding her.

Abruptly, he let her go and turned away, tucking the journal into the basket. Anne turned back to the house, feeling more chilled than the wind should’ve made her. 

The song started in the trees and followed her all the way back to Green Gables. 

_‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe.’_

* * *

**PART IV- _WINTER_**

Anne was cooking when the screaming started. 

The shriek caused her to drop the spoon, the wooden utensil clattering to the floor. The noise was coming from Mary’s room and Anne rushed in there, adrenaline high.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Mary groaned, clutching at her back. Sweat dotted her head as she panted. 

“Labor,” She managed. 

“You’re in labor? When did your waters break?” Anne pulled down the coverlet from Mary’s shoulders, grabbing a towel kept next to the bed and dabbed at Mary’s forehead. 

“‘Bout three hours ago…”

“Mary!” Anne admonished. “You’ve been in labor this whole time? Why didn’t you call for me?” 

“...already done... before...knew what... expect---” Another scream. 

“Bash is in White Sands overseeing the shipment. He won’t be back for hours. And Gilbert, well I don’t know where he is, but I’ve helped with birthings before and I promise you--”

“School...had questions about… assignment.” Mary interrupted before groaning in pain. “Get him… please…”

Anne made a split second decision. It was about the same distance to either Green Gables or the school from here. 

“I’ll be back. Ten minutes, I promise.” 

Anne ran to the schoolhouse, stopping at Orchard Slope first. The Barrys’ mansion was always an intimidating place but to Anne, it felt almost like a second home. The maid answered the door, Anne rushing past her. 

“Diana! Diana!”

“What’s all this nonsense?” Mr. Barry grumbled, coming out from the parlor. Anne ignored him in favor of Diana who was coming down the stairs. 

“Anne!” She called back. “What is it?”

“Mary’s baby is coming. I need you to run to Green Gables and tell Matthew and Marilla. Matthew can then go fetch the doctor.” Message delivered, Anne turned and passed by Mr. Barry, once again ignoring the man. 

“Where are you going?” Diana called.

Anne ran out the door she yelled back over her shoulder “To go find Gilbert!” 

Dashing through the Haunted Woods she arrived at the schoolhouse in record time, utterly breathless. She banged on the door, no air to use her words, or even the effort of opening the door. 

It was Gilbert who opened said door. He saw her face, correctly guessed the situation, and bid a curt farewell to Miss Stacy. He swiftly loped down the path, barely restraining his stride for Anne to keep up. 

“Her waters have broken?” At Anne’s nod he continued his interrogation. “How long ago? Has Bash made it back? How long between contractions? How dilated is she?” 

“About three hours ago. And no, Bash is still in White Sands.”

“Damn it! Her waters broke three hours ago? Why are you only coming to get me now?!”

“I came as soon as I knew!”Anne defended, frustrated at her friend for putting her in this position, and mad at Gilbert for thinking that she purposefully deceived him. “I sent Diana to have Matthew fetch the doctor.” 

“A doctor that won’t treat a colored woman.” 

“Then…” Anne came to a startling conclusion.

Gilbert met her eye. “It’s just us.”

They rushed through the door into the kitchen. 

“Mary!” Anne called, bursting through the bedroom door. Her answer was a cry of pain. Gilbert was right behind Anne, coat, scarf, and bag gone, and currently shucking his vest. 

“Have you ever birthed a baby?” Gilbert asked, lathering his hands at the washstand. 

“Yes, two pairs of twins. You?”

“In Trinidad. The whole reason I wanted to become a doctor.” Gilbert rinsed, and approached Mary. “How far apart are your contractions?” 

Mary look a bit more coherent than she did a few seconds ago. “About two minutes. Is… is something burning?”

Anne gasped. “The pie! I left it in the oven.” 

As she ran to the kitchen she heard Gilbert call “Bring extra towels. And set some water to boil!” 

Anne pulled out her pie, relieved to find that only the edges had started to blacken. It would be a little too crispy but would make a nice reward, _after_ the baby had come. She quickly set it aside and did as Gilbert bid. 

Upon reentering the room, Gilbert had his timepiece in hand, counting. When Mary started to cry, he wrote down the time in a notebook, underneath two other entries. 

“Still two minutes?” She asked offering him some butter. He nodded, both in thanks and agreement, covering one hand in the slippery substance. Respectfully, he nodded to Mary before driving underneath the sheet to check the birthing canal. 

“Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe a half an hour? I don’t know.” Gilbert paced away, running one hand through his hair. Anne seated herself half beside, half behind Mary, taking the woman’s hand in hers. 

Time seemed to stall as Gilbert paced, pausing to jot down the time when Mary started to cry from the contraction, then resumed. Every so often he would check Mary’s dilation, but it was ‘almost but not quite.’

Anne went to check on the water, bringing back a hot compress. She tried to hand it to Gilbert. 

“What’s that for?” 

Groaning in frustration, she pushed past him and laid the towel underneath the blanket. “The heat helps relax the birthing canal so it doesn’t tear when the baby comes out.” She informed him, as though he should know this already. 

She resumed her seat besides Mary just as the woman started to scream in earnest. 

Gilbert and Anne met each other’s eyes; it was time. 

“Alright, Mary, we need you to push now.” Gilbert instructed, one hand underneath, one hand on top of Mary’s stomach.

Anne gave Mary’s hand a big squeeze. “You can do it. Push!” 

Mary’s face twisted in pain, giving a big yell before stopping and panting. 

“I see it! Come on Mary! A few more pushes!” 

Anne breathed with her, encouraging her. “Squeeze my hand. As hard as you can.” 

A few more moments passed, but each felt like an eternity.Time stilled. Anne held her breath. Finally, at Gilbert’s exclamation, Mary stopped, utterly spent. 

Anne slipped out behind her, grabbing a towel, and reached forward to take the red, small, _still_ bundle. 

“She’s not breathing,” Gilbert whispered. 

Anne raised an eyebrow before taking a finger and wiping out the newborn’s mouth, removing phlegm and blood. She then blew gently in the baby’s face and… a wonderful wail. 

Anne grinned as tangible relief sank Gilbert’s shoulders and he exhaled roughly. Anne busied herself with swaddling the baby girl, ignoring how handsome Gilbert looked in that moment, with utter joy written across his face. 

She had a small vision of what he would look like if present with his own child, _their_ child.

Anne slammed _that_ thought closed.

While Gilbert gathered up the afterbirth, depositing it in a bowl to be dealt with later, a quiet knock came at the front door. Anne gently laid the sleeping infant in Mary’s arms, and went to answer the door. 

Night had fallen in the past hour, unnoticed by Anne, and in the glow of a lantern’s light stood Matthew, as well as Diana. They both had similar expressions of worry. “The doctor wouldn’t come,” Matthew reported, a rare anger in his brow. 

“That’s alright,” Anne whispered, ushering them into the kitchen. “It’s all over anyway. Mary has a wonderful baby girl.” 

“Oh Anne! That’s wonderful!” Diana embraced her and they giggled quietly. 

“Who knew that all those times I helped birth twins would come in handy after all?” Anne wondered, not able to keep a grin off her face. 

“Well, that’s that.” Matthew had had enough talk of birthing and babies apparently. “Nothing more to be done here. Come on Diana, I’ll see you home.” They left as quietly as they had entered. 

Anne set herself busy by making some tea, needing a restorative after the intensity of the past hour, and assuming Gilbert would probably need some as well. 

She’d just cut into the pie when Gilbert came out, wiping his hands with a cloth, no longer bloodstained. 

“Mother and baby are both sleeping. I’ll need to keep a close eye on Mary, just to make sure the worse doesn’t happen.” He slid into a chair, exhausted.

“Here,” Anne placed a cup of earl grey and a slice of the unfortunate apple pie in front of him. “It’s a bit overdone but still edible. Just cut away the black stuff.” 

“Oh bless you. I am starving.” Gilbert heartily dug into the pie. Anne took a secret thill at his moan of appreciation, despite the imperfections. She sipped at her tea, the warm steam helping relax her and she sat down on the bench next to Gilbert, half leaning against his left arm.

That’s the scene Sebastian walked in on. Upon his arrival, Anne sat up straight, a smile curving her features. Gilbert stopped eating. With a single look, the two teenagers came to a mutual conclusion. Anne slipped quietly off to Mary’s room while Gilbert distracted Bash. 

“Here Bash, come have some of this pie Anne made. It’s extra toasted, just how you like it.” 

Sebastian grinned tiredly, but had enough energy to rib Gilbert. “The way _I_ like it? More like the way _you_ like it since anything you bake comes out the same color: black." 

He’d just taken his first bite when Anne came back, cradling a bundle of cloth. 

“Sebastian Lacroix,” She said grandly, pompously. “May I present to you your daughter: Delphine Hazel Lacroix. She’s been waiting to meet you.” 

Bash froze; he mouthed the word ‘daughter’ several times before looking over at Gilbert, and then back at Anne. He swallowed quickly, pushing away from his plate as Anne came to place her burden in his arms. 

“Oh hey, little one! I've been dying to meet you. And you came while daddy was away, how unfair.” At the tender remarks of a new father, Anne decided to give Bash a few moments of privacy, going back to Mary’s room.

“And my wife?” She heard Bash ask just before Anne shut the door. Gilbert's reply was inaudible. 

He joined her after a moment, moving to inspect the new mother.

“Delphine?” He asked, curious about the name. 

“Mary told me last week that if it was a girl, she’d be named Delphine Hazel after both of their mothers. And if it was a boy…” Anne paused for dramatic effect, watching Gilbert for his reaction, ”he was to be christened James Gilbert.”

His hands stilled. Slowly, he closed his notebook where he'd been making notes.

“They would’ve named him after me?” A choked sound accompanied his query.

It was Mary who responded, voice hoarse from sleep, exhaustion, and hours of caterwauling. “You found Bash in the middle of the sea. Of course we would’ve named him after you.” 

“Good thing it was girl or else your head would be too big to fit into your hat,” said Anne, teasing, hoping to lighten the mood. It worked; Gilbert chuckled good naturedly. 

Bash joined them then. Anne said her goodbyes, left a sweet kiss to Delphine’s head, and trudged back through the snow, tired but light-hearted. 

* * *

**PART V - _SPRING_**

It wasn’t the same without Mary. 

Anne stirred the stew in the Blythe’s kitchen, carefully watching the paprika toast in the skillet. A few more seconds and the paprika would be done. 

“Mary, I didn’t forget it this time.” Anne said quietly to the empty kitchen. She gently scraped the spice into the stew, giving it a few spins to really mix it in, then dipped in a spoon, blowing on the liquid before giving it a taste.

Perfection. 

Anne felt a tear slip down her face. This was the first time she’d made this stew correctly, as there were several ingredients and fairly difficult techniques to get everything just right. Anne wished her mentor was here to see it. 

Bash was outside with Delphine, and Anne could, from the kitchen window, see the yellow kite flying in the sky. Gilbert was out back chopping wood. 

_At least he_ was _._ Anne thought at the clatter of wood on wood from the front porch, accompanied by Gilbert’s footsteps. 

He entered the kitchen, using a rag to wipe his forehead and neck. 

“Smells good.” He complimented, his mouth smiling, his eyes still glazed with grief. Anne bet her eyes were the same; the windows to the soul showing the hurt inside. 

“I finally got the stew right. It took me seven attempts. I just wish…” Anne trailed off. Gilbert nodded as he pocketed the fabric. 

He reached for the same spoon Anne had used, and before she could say anything, used it to taste her soup. 

“Perfect.”

Anne scoffed. “Says the man who still can’t cook despite two competent teachers.”

Gilbert leveled the spoon at her. “Just because I can’t cook doesn’t mean my taste buds don’t work.” 

She smiled slightly, snatching the spoon away from him. “Go clean up. Supper will be done soon.” 

He disappeared upstairs and Anne stared at the spoon. She had a funny feeling in her stomach at the thought of Gilbert using the same utensil she had. His mouth had been where hers had… 

Quickly shutting off that trail of thought, she plunged the spoon into the sink. Remembering her biscuits in the oven, she grabbed hotpads and pulled the golden brown pastries from the heat. Working quickly and carefully, she pulled the bread basket over, draped a flour sack cloth over it, and transferred the biscuits. A particularly hot one had her hissing in pain. 

“Here, let me see.” 

Gilbert had entered the kitchen, crossing over to her. He gently took her hand in his. 

“It was just a singe, it’s alright now.” Anne protested, notedly _not_ pulling her hand away. 

He looked up then, and Anne realized how close they were. His hazel eyes were more deep than ever, and they softened as she gazed into them. 

Gilbert spoke again and it took a few seconds for Anne to register. “... cold water should be enough.”

“Thank you, Doctor Blythe.” Anne teased unthinkingly. 

Gilbert looked struck. “I’ve never heard someone call me that. I mean I’ve thought of it over and over again, but it’s never really been a reality. Someday, I hope, everyone will call me that.” 

“They will.” Anne promised. She felt strangely proud that it was she who’d called him _Doctor Blythe_ first. It suited him. 

Bash came in then, and Anne turned to the sink, plunging her hand under the pump. Gilbert finished the task moving the biscuits, decidingly _not_ burning his hand, and transferred the stew to the table. 

Drying her hands, Anne went to the door, gathering her coat. “Marilla’s expecting me home so I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait. You’re welcome to stay.” Gilbert offered as Bash put Delly in her high chair. “It seems a shame that you went to all this work and don’t get to eat it.” 

“Don’t you know anything of Woman’s plight? She does all the hard work and gets none of the reward.” Anne’s gender-deprecating joke fell flat, and her smile sobered too quickly.

Gilbert laid his hand on hers. “Please.”

Bash chimed in. “When you’re here Anne, I feel a bit of Mary’s spirit, as though she’s just in the next room. Please eat with us.” 

Anne, outnumbered, rehung her coat. “All of Marilla’s wrath shall fall on your heads then.” She quipped, as she took her customary seat next to Gilbert. 

After they’d finished eating, Anne took the initiative to start dishes. Gilbert fell in beside her with a towel, drying to her washing. It was a companionable silence, working in tandem, with her friend. As though they were partners. 

Lightning struck.

Anne gasped out loud.

“Wait! I just thought of it.”

Gilbert eyed her. “Thought of what?”

“Remember the fair last year? What we are. We’re ‘earthly companions’.” 

“‘Earthly companions’?”

“It’s from Jane Eyre. ‘My second self and my best earthly companion’. Yes. It’s decided.” She nodded once, going back to her washing.

A pause. Then, “Promise?”

Anne stared up at him, befuddled. “Promise what?”

“Promise me that we’re really ‘earthly companions or what have you and that won’t change. That we won’t go back to being nemeses or arch enemies or rivals.”

Anne held out her hand, pinkie extended. Gilbert glanced between her face and her hand, confused for a split second before understanding cleared between his eyebrows. He wrapped his dry pinkie around her wet one, the contrast between momentous and strangely earth-shattering but Anne didn’t know why. 

“I take you, Gilbert Blythe, to be my ‘earthly companion’, for better or for worse, for as long as the sun and moon shall endure. Your turn.”

Gilbert swallowed, switching his weight from foot to foot. “Anne… I don’t think.”

“Say it.” Anne tugged on their conjoined fingers, until he cleared his throat and began. 

“I, Gilbert Blythe, take you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, to be my…”

“Earthly companion.”

“Earthly c-companion, for better or for worse, never to forsake for as long as both of us shall live. “

They stared at each other, both realizing what their act had reminded them of. 

“Now we seal it somehow. Usually it’s with a kiss--”

Bash’s footsteps had them springing apart, Anne wiping down her hands on her pinafore. 

“Never mind that now. I need to leave, Marilla is probably worried.” 

Anne quickly gathered her coat, scarf, and hat, and dashed out the door, ignoring the lingering heat in her littlest finger, and the echo of the vow they each had spoken. 

In the back of her mind, Anne wondered what it would’ve felt like to kiss and be kissed by one Gilbert Blythe. 

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:
> 
> -@aceofsparrows came up with the Jane Eyre quote 'Best Earthly Companion' since I was stumped for a long while (See the original version of the ending [here](https://withlovegilbert.tumblr.com/post/614238826669506560/withlovegilbert-a-few-paragraphs-of-my-work-in))  
> -The idea for this fic originated with the harvest scene. I'd had Way Haul Away Joe stuck in my head on a loop and I just imagined a scene where Bash tells Anne that Gilbert wouldn't stop singing and then they sing together. From there the rest of this fic was born.  
> Thank you all for reading! Let me know what you think down in the comments. Is there a particular headcanon of yours from that missing year?


End file.
